


The Joys of Motherhood

by myadamantiumheart



Category: A - Fandom, Avengers (Comic), The Avengers
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Kid Fic, Magic, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-10-11
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-24 12:12:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myadamantiumheart/pseuds/myadamantiumheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki's magic goes awry (again), Steve and Tony are left unwitting guardians to six unruly de-aged Avengers. (A collection of drabbles from my Kidvengers! Universe)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Captain America can... maybe do this: Or, Tony is only mildly helpful

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE DO NOT REPOST! I have had multiple instances of this and I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR IT. If you would like to translate any of my works, please message me. I have only given permission for one translation out of all of my works, so if you see one of my works chances are it is not authorized (the only one translated with my permission was, I believe, part of the My Boy Builds Coffins series.)
> 
> Notes on ages:  
> Peter is about 2  
> Bruce and Loki are 3  
> Thor, Natasha, and Clint are almost 4/ around 4

Sometimes Steve regrets things. Not all that often, anymore, now that he’s more used to this century, but sometimes. As he surveys the insanity that the Avenger’s Tower living room has become, he thinks to himself yeah, this is one of those times. It is one of those times, which often coincide with the regret times, that he told Tony something he probably shouldn’t have.

“Yeah, I used to babysit sometimes, help out the moms in the neighborhood when I had a free afternoon,” he tells Tony when Tony asks warily if he knows anything about kids. Steve doesn’t think much of the question, instead reaching up high to get the plain cheerios (sugar cereal doesn’t sit well with Thor’s stomach).

“That was Jarvis,” Tony says casually, two aisles later. Steve nods, comparing the nutrition facts of two kinds of peanut butter. “Clint, Peter, Natasha, Bruce, Thor, and Loki have been turned into toddlers.” Steve nods again and then-

“What?”

And now here he is, regretting he’d told Tony he knew how to change a diaper, and watching as Thor systematically braided Loki’s hair, Bruce muttered underneath a blanket fort, Peter giggled, hanging from the curtains, Clint threw things at Natasha, and Natasha attempted to beat him over the head with a small plastic bat.

He squared his shoulders, took a step into the room, and heaved a deep breath.

He was Captain America.

He could do this.

Clint started crying as the plastic bat hit his eye, Natasha’s lower lip wobbled at the sight of the tiny archer’s tears, Bruce began turning green at the noise, and Peter was about to fall off the top of the TV armoire.

Okay, maybe not.


	2. Thunderstorms at Avengers Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thunderstorm hits New York, bringing mixed reactions from the various de-aged Avengers. Steve and Tony cope accordingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes on ages:  
> Peter is about 2  
> Bruce and Loki are 3  
> Thor, Natasha, and Clint are almost 4/ around 4

Tony Stark was brilliant: Tony Stark was a futurist and Tony Stark tried to predict all eventual outcomes.

One of the outcomes he did not predict was currently disturbing his hard-won sleep (sleep, oh glorious sans-crying-children-and-potty-accidents-sleep, how could he have so disparaged you in his foolish younger days?).

“Stebe?” Peter’s tiny damp face peeked around the cracked door, lower lip wibbling as he tip-toed into the room, his progress illuminated by the flashing of lightning outside the windows. “Tohnee?” Steve rubbed his eyes, sitting up from the bed he and Tony were sharing (it was closest to the child-proofed rooms they’d set the other toddler-fied Avengers in, or so Tony had rationalized).

“Yeah, Peter?” He yawned as Tony rolled over, sitting up to blink sleepily down at the hiccuping child clutching the blankets that spilled over the end of the bed. It hadn’t seemed too apparent earlier when they were in the labs with Beast, but now it was obvious that Peter was de-aged even younger than the others, his small frame seeming even smaller as he curled in away from the storm raging outside the tower.

“Can I, um, can I,” he stuttered out, sniffling and jumping as more thunder boomed. “Is scary noise and um, um,” he held out his arms pitifully, silently asking Steve to pick him up. Steve smiled reassuringly, stifling another yawn, and rolled out of bed, bending to scoop Peter up and cradle him against his chest, tucking the tear-stained face into his neck and rubbing his shivering back, pressing a kiss to his mussed bed-head. Tony watched, an involuntary grin tugging at his lips at the way Peter curled around Steve, his hands helpfully moving the comforter back so that there was enough room for Steve to slide back into bed. “T’ank ‘oo-” came the muffled mumble from Peter as he snuggled into Steve’s chest, Steve lying carefully back on the pillows and Tony wanted to move closer, he wanted to cuddle Peter between them, he wanted to be safe and warm too and-

“GOD OF THE STOOOOOOORMS! KING OF THE THUUUUUUNDEEEEER!” came the battle cry from the hallway outside, the pitter pattering of little feet racing down the hallway towards the living room. Tony sighed, taking one last longing look at Steve’s other shoulder, just lying there waiting for his cheek to fit itself into the hollow where it met collarbone and rock him back to sleep.

“I’ll get that,” he said wearily, rolling out of bed and trudging towards the door, flinging it wearily open and just watching for a few minutes as Thor sprinted around the hallway, literally bouncing off the walls and spinning in circles.

“Thunder thunder thunder THUNDER LIGHTNING THUNDER ALLmine all my THUNDER-” He scooped the hyper little blond up, patting him on the back as Thor grinned maniacally at him.

“Let’s take the Thunder downstairs, yeah?” he whispered. “We can have some hot cocoa with the thunder down there so we don’t disturb the others.”


	3. The Talk (Part One?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint asks awkward questions, and Tony regrets not parental-locking the television. Also, Logan is terrible at explaining things to little kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes on ages:  
> Peter is about 2  
> Bruce and Loki are 3  
> Thor, Natasha, and Clint are almost 4/ around 4

Sometimes Tony forgot that when the other Avengers were de-aged, they were, in some ways, really just normal little kids. 

Normal little kids with normal little kid questions.

And yeah, maybe he should have put a parental lock on the TV, but in his defense he forgot their memories had been altered and they just didn’t  _know **certain**_ things.

“Hey Daddy,” Clint asked Tony nonchalantly one afternoon, munching on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich next to Tony at the kitchen table. “Do you and Papa have naked time like the Mama and Papa on tv?” Tony spluttered heavily and knocked a glass of apple juice over in his flailing movement to turn to face Clint.

“Do we  ** _what_**?”

“Do you have naked time?” Clint asked patiently, eyes wide. “Tasha and I were watching tv the other day and the Mama and Papa had naked time together.” He frowned, confused. “That’s what Logan told me it was called. You know, when no clothes? Hugging with no clothes? Logan said it was called naked time and it was only for grown-ups. And you and Papa are grownups, and you share a bed like the people on tv, and-“ 

Tony waved a hand at Clint to shut him up.

“I, uh, Clint, no, we don’t. Papa and I  ** _don’t_**  have naked time. Now, how about we make a deal, okay? You don’t  ** _ever_**  mention naked time again, and I’ll make you some new suction cup darts for your bow, okay?” The four year old thought it over, then nodded.

“Okay.”

Tony sighed, relieved. He was  ** _so_**  going to have to lock down the parental controls on the tv. With multiple firewalls and seven different safeguard passwords. 

Tony Stark was a brilliant genius billionaire who had faced certain death many times.

But he was  ** _not_**  prepared to have The Talk.


	4. Wolverine- Maker of the Peanut Bubber Sammich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony leave a bunch of smallish humans with Logan for the night. Peter proves to once again be cute enough to move even the great and ferocious Wolverine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter's like 2  
> Bruce and Loki are about 3  
> Thor, Clint, and Natasha are about 4

When Tony hands a giggling Peter off to Logan on his way out the door, a smiling, grateful Cap close behind him, the infamous Wolverine doesn’t even know what to do. He supposes perhaps he shouldn’t have agreed to a favor without knowing what it was, but he was marginally drunk and distracted by the wrestling match on TV. He looks down at the small brown haired boy clinging to his shirt and petting his sideburns in bemusement before shrugging and returning to the living room to keep an eye on the others, who are watching some sort of doped up epileptic seizure inducing show called “Yo Gabba Gabba”. Things are easy for a while, but then Peter is tugging at his hair and asking for food in a pitiful little voice, Natasha is stabbing in Clint’s direction with a marker, and Thor has managed to lock himself in a closet. Loki snickers nearby, tapping on the door teasingly and asking Thor if it’s scary in there with the monsters. Bruce has hidden away in the blanket fort again. This parenting thing is really not his strong suit- he can handle teenagers in Westchester when he’s helping Xavier out, because he just treats them like petulant, horny adults, but toddlers?   
He considers calling Xavier to send Jubilee over as a replacement babysitter, because smallish humans are really not his specialty. They don’t understand beer, cigars, cage-matches, are not allowed in bars, and most of them freak the hell out when Logan accidentally snaps at them in a gruff voice.   
“M’ hungry,” Peter says in a tiny voice, hand patting Logan’s sideburn. “Looooo-lo, I’m hungry. Want food. P’ease.” Logan tears his eyes away from the mesmerizing swirls of Yo Gabba Gabba to look down at the big blue eyes staring up at him from his lap.   
“What kinda food, kid?” He asks, trying to keep the perpetual ‘fuck off’ vibes out of his voice. Peter sits back, one hand tangled in his dog tags.   
“Wull…” he sounds bemused. “I want candy, but… Papa says not a’fore dinner. What ‘bout peanut bubber ‘n jam?” He peers suspiciously up at Logan, who is trying very hard not to laugh at the ‘peanut bubber’ bit. “You know how to make a peanut bubber sammich, right, Uncle Lo-Lo?” Logan nods seriously.  
“I know how ta make one, bub. Howsabout we round up the rest of these troublemakers and go have some grub? You wanna help me?” Peter nods enthusiastically, scrambling off his lap to tug the others, pushing them towards the kitchen.   
“C’mon c’mon c’mooon Lo-lo’s makin’ peanut bubber saaaammiches-“

Eventually, with Peter’s help, everyone’s eaten, and slowly the minivengers are passing out across the room, heaped in piles of blankets they’d brought out when Logan grudgingly put Ponyo in the dvd player. When Tony and Cap come in, quietly, smiles on their faces and looking a lot more relaxed than they have in a while, even Logan’s fast asleep, the main menu of the dvd playing soft music and casting a glow across the faces of the tired out toddlers. Peter’s curled up on Logan’s chest, one hand wrapped around his dog tags and another on his sideburn, clutching him like a security blanket. Thor and Loki have fallen asleep in some sort of tangled arrangement, likely whilst kicking each other sleepily. Clint and Natasha have joined Bruce in the blanket fort, and are quite happily curled together, tiny snores emanation from their cave.

“And he says he’s not good with kids,” Steve whispers fondly. Tony grins, looking over the scene.   
“Maybe he isn’t good with kids, but they sure are good with him.”


	5. Peter and Natasha Build a Bunker. Or, Tony Surrenders His Desk to the War Effort.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony was not exactly sure what was going on, but the underside of his desk appeared to be completely obscured with an obscene amount of blankets and sheets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes on ages:  
> Peter is about 2  
> Bruce and Loki are 3  
> Thor, Natasha, and Clint are almost 4/ around 4

Despite her newly small size, or perhaps because of it, Natasha appears to be even stealthier than normal. Which, of course, goes dangerously hand in hand with Peter’s latent ability to climb walls and do the various and sundry things your friendly local Spiderman can do. Though before their...shrinkage, Peter would have avoided the deadly woman like the plague, afraid his normal babbling would get him a knife to the knee, the de-aged pair seem to be distinctly chummy. This, Tony finds out, when he absentmindedly sits down in his desk chair and rolls it up to his desk, only to find himself unable to get close enough to tap at his monitors because Natasha and Peter appear to have built some sort of stealth surveillance bunker beneath it. He rolls back, leans down, stands straight, shakes his head, and grabs his coffee.

He’s not really very good at dealing with this.

With a sigh, Tony sits down, scooting over to what appears to be the entrance of the bunker. He taps on the wood lightly, rearing back when a tiny plastic dagger is stabbed at his chest.

“Woah, woah,” he says, hands up, heart racing slightly. Who knew that a four year old girl could be that menacing? Natasha is staring at him blankly from the slit in the blankets that serves as the door window. “I was just seeing what was going on here, you know, since it’s my desk and all.”  She just smiles a menacing little smile and disappears into the darkness. Which is really fucking scary, okay? Tony’s not afraid to admit that he’s a little bit frightened of Natasha in this moment. Especially since she almost just stabbed his arc reactor with a teeny plastic dagger, which, by the way, where the hell did she get that? Who gives a little kid a plastic dagger? He’d bet good money it was Coulson. Despite his complete knowledge of _Super Nanny_ , the man’s a sucker for small children.

“I, uh.” Tony tries again. Because he might be a little bit worried, you know, about what in the hell Natasha is doing in a blanket bunker beneath his office desk. “What are you doing in there, Nat? Would you, uh, would you mind if I took a peek?” There is a muffled rustling, the sound of whispered syllables, and then, to his surprise, Peter’s face pops up happily in the small window.

“Hiya, Daddy.” He grins, his hair mussed and eyes bright. Tony blinks at him for a moment before smiling back.

“Hey there, Pete. What are you and Natasha doing in there? D’you mind if I take a look?” Peter’s face becomes serious.

“Natty says she dun want you ‘n Papa lookin’ in our fort. Says it’s a, a… a survey-ince fort. For, uh, for special pops.” Tony nods slowly.

“Right. For special ops. Right. Well then, um, that’s very nice, Peter. Are you guys going to come out for snack time? I think I heard Papa say it was snack time soon.” It’s a poorly veiled attempt to reclaim his desk and figure out what was going on underneath it.

And it doesn’t work, because Peter brightens again, his small hand rummaging around and bringing up a granola bar and a tiny carton of chocolate milk.

“We’re ready fer th’ ‘pockalipse.” He grins widely and takes a huge bite of the bar, spraying crumbs in Tony’s face as he sits back. Tony feels a little bit at a loss.  He stands up, bending to reach a hand through and pat Peter’s head, ruffling the curly brown hair.

“Alright then, buddy, I’ll just be going now. You and Nat have a good time, okay? I’ll bet Papa will want to come in and see how you made your fort later on.” Tony says hesitantly, pulling his hand out quickly lest it be stabbed by a terrifying tiny dagger, and rounds the desk. He restrains his groan as he sees that somehow little spy holes have been dug into the wood of his desk, leaving a dark space for two serious green eyes to look out. There are granola bar wrappers peeking out from under the blanket on the left side, and a straw from a milk carton has rolled out.

It’s pretty much adorable, for how odd it is that Natasha has maintained her spy tendencies even as a little kid. He’d often wondered if she’d been born with a naturally terrifying, observing personality- he now knew the answer. With a quick step, he walks out of the office, making his way down to the kitchen where Steve is setting out little paper towels with apples and peanut butter on them for the rest of the kids. He looks up as Tony walks in, a question expression on his face.

“Where are Peter and Natasha?” he asks quietly as Tony passes him on his way to the fridge.

“Oh, you know, they’ve built a spy bunker underneath my desk and they’re on the look out for possible dangers to society that might use my office as a head quarters or hideout.” Steve looks bemused for a  moment before shrugging it off.

Such is the life of a superhero, Tony supposes.

 

Several hours later, dinner time fast approaching,  Tony and Steve very carefully enter the room using their best stealth moves, hoping to catch the two and four year old off guard. They creep on all fours towards the desk, Tony with his fingers crossed that they’ve managed to hit the blind spots of the blanket bunker. When they knock on the wood and lift the blanket door, though, it appears that their efforts have been for naught- Natasha and Peter are curled together in a nest of blankets, sharing a pillow and absolutely conked out asleep.

There are granola crumbs everywhere- Peter’s hair, Natasha’s shirt, the blankets, the carpet. Steve sighs happily, leaning into Tony’s shoulder as he takes in the scene. Littered with small plastic weaponry, a fake camera, a spyglass, what Tony thinks is a piece off of Dummy, wrappers, and what appears to be a small grappling hook make entirely of oversized paper clips, the blanket bunker is an absolute mess.

 

Shaking his head, Steve reaches underneath the desk to scoop the two tangled children into his arms, kissing their hair when they mumble and Peter’s hand latches onto his shirt with a death grip, Natasha curling protectively around the small boy. Tony feels his chest tighten slightly, his fondness for the three in front of him growing exponentially. With a sigh, he leans forward to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder for a moment, taking in the damage to his desk and then standing. It can be taken care of in the morning. For now, he thinks, following Steve as they walk slowly down the hall towards the bedrooms, everything is just fine.

\-------------

 

 **And bonus teeny teeny drabble- Drabble 4.5, set at the beginnning of the whole Deaged fiasco.**

 

     The day has been exhausting, and honestly Steve is glad that toddlers fall asleep early when tired out. He flops onto the couch next to Tony, rubbing the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

“How are we going to do this?” He asks despairingly. Superheroes though they may be, not even Captain America and Iron Man are prepared to successfully care for six children. Especially not six children with questionable powers. Six children who were fully grown superheroes not twenty four hours ago.

“We can do it,” Tony tells him firmly, though his eyes look uncertain. “It can’t be too hard.”

 

Four days later, up to his eyeballs in legos and currently pinned to the ground by four little boys, Steve quietly disagrees.

 


	6. Natasha is Not a Smallish Human Any More, and Tony is Afraid of His Growing Emotional Attachments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha finally returns to normal size, lending a hand with the rest of the deaged Avengers, and Tony comes to realize what this whole ordeal has ended up resulting in- feelings.

Tony has never sighed a larger sigh of relief than when Natasha returns back to her normal size and age. She had appeared to be the oldest, and, as Hank McCoy was speculating, the exact time of her return to normal happened at what would have been the stroke of midnight on her fifth birthday. She had apparently turned back during the night, and, being Natasha, had simply shed the shreds of her red nightgown, slunk back to her normal bedroom, and went back to sleep. The next morning, Tony stumbled down to the kitchen and leapt back with a shriek when he saw Natasha and Steve herding the still-deaged Avengers into highchairs and settling them with their breakfasts.

“What the fuck-“ he starts, words still slurred with sleep, and Steve’s glare cuts off the rest of his sentence.

“Not in front of the kids, Tony,” he chastises, and turns back to the stove, leaving Tony to stare in disbelief at Natasha.

“You’re back, then,” he says, finally, flopping down in his usual seat and taking a long drag of the coffee Steve had thoughtfully set out.

“I’m back,” she confirms, wiping peanut butter off of Bruce’s forehead. He grins shyly up at her, patting her hand gratefully.  “Hank thought it might be the whole birthday thing. Luckily, Thor’s is next week, Clint’s two after that, and who knows when Loki’s is but it better be soon because Fury might just have a conniption if we’re all out of commission much longer.”

Tony mumbles something to the effect of “Good to have you back and all that, need more caffeine, hope Loki never turns back, the little jackass,” and promptly gets up to drink straight from the coffee carafe.

 

It’s nice, actually, having Natasha back. She’s pretty good with kids, and Bruce and Peter seem to have become attached, leaving Steve and Tony with less of a handful to take care of.  They go to the department store, the three of them and the five kids trailing in an amorphous blob about their knees, and Natasha helps pick out clothes that don’t look as though a blind monkey matched them. Steve is extraordinarily grateful to have another adult who keeps a somewhat regular meal schedule and knows how to cook, and soon he and Natasha are trading nights cooking dinner. Coulson comes over a few times, takes Clint and Thor and Loki to the park with Natasha and comes back with a slightly guilty glint in his eyes and three small boys smeared with chocolate ice cream.

Bath time is less of a disaster/war zone, now that Bruce and Peter are perfectly happy to do whatever Natasha says. Tony pouts a bit, complaining to Steve that he’s not Peter’s favorite anymore, but Steve knows that it’s simply the fact that Natasha is so much more quiet than Tony most of the time.

And then there’s the memorable night when Natasha and Coulson decide it’s a good idea to take all of the kids save Peter (who doesn’t meet the height requirement) to the huge child infested indoor wonderland that is **Bamboola**. They pile into a van that Coulson brought over from SHIELD, Natasha rolling her eyes when Steve asks worriedly if he shouldn’t come, and could they handle it?

“They’re SHIELD agents,” Tony reminds him, shifting Peter over to the other hip as the toddler grins goofily around Tony’s sunglasses, which dwarf his small rosy cheeks.  “I think they can handle four kids for a few hours.”

“I suppose,” Steve says, grudgingly. He still has that Famous Rogers’ Frown on his face, though, creasing his forehead, so Tony slaps his shoulder and grins.

“Howsabout we take the kid out for sushi?” he says, shaking Steve’s arm playfully, ignoring the fact that this feels a lot like a married couple activity. Steve smiles reluctantly, taking Peter from Tony and turning back towards the mansion.

“I’ll go get Peter in some warmer clothes, I suppose,” and Steve shoots a quick, stern look at Tony. “There’d better be a car seat in whatever car you have out front when I get down here.”

Tony just smiles and reassures him that there will be, watching Steve walk inside. There’s a small, niggling thought nudging at his mind, twisting in his smile and bursting like a firework when Steve laughs, opening the door and twirling inside with a laughing Peter. It doesn’t disappear when the door shuts, nor when Tony enters the garage.

It doesn’t disappear later on, when they’re laughing and leaning together, trying to get Peter to understand chopsticks.

It doesn’t disappear when Natasha and Coulson come home with four sleeping boys in the back of the van, nor when he and Steve and Natasha tuck all five of their charges into their bed in the childproof room.

It gets stronger when Tony glares at Natasha’s little smirk, the picture of him and Steve and Peter that she hands him making it spark and splutter and twine tighter as he enters the bedroom they haven’t stopped sharing, for some inexplicable reason.

It certainly doesn’t stop when Steve slides into bed beside him and says, quiet and sweet, “Goodnight, Tony.”

And it goes something like this: when Tony looks at Steve, Steve holding Peter or Bruce, Steve twirling Clint and Thor, Steve reading stories to Loki- when Tony looks at that picture of Steve and Peter and Tony wrapped around them, he sees a Steve that he wants all for himself.

A Steve that he wouldn’t mind keeping when the rest of the kids finally return to their normal states.

And that scares Tony like nothing else, for all the warm feelings it espouses in his chest.

Because what if, when all of their precious kids are back and grown, are teammates and friends and family all rolled into one again, what if Steve doesn’t want him back? His fingers unconsciously curl around the arm of the teddy bear that Peter insists they sleep with (for “protection, Papa”, he’d explained seriously), and Tony rolls over, staring at Steve’s blonde hair shining dully in the light of the arc reactor.

Because… What if he does?

Tony’s not sure which outcome scares him more. 


End file.
